Having thoroughly warmed himself at the fire, Oscar turned toward the wagon; but no sooner had he laid his hand upon the fore-chest than Paddy O'Brian's blackthorn stick whirled through the air and struck the lid with a sounding whack.
Fortunately he missed his aim in the dark, but the unexpected attack startled Oscar, who jumped back with an angry exclamation.
"If I hurted yez I beg yer pardon," said Paddy in a sympathetic tone. "But kape away from that wagon, for I'm the best little man in Afriky."
During his long intercourse with the honest but combative Irishman Oscar could discover but one fault in him, and that was, it took him forever to wake up. Oscar could spring from his cot, rifle in hand, at any hour of the night, and the moment he landed on his feet all his senses came to him, and he knew just what he was about, but Paddy never found his wits until he had done something he ought not to have done.
He gave a ludicrous example of this one night, and came very near sealing his death warrant by it. What it was shall be told in its proper place.
"If you think you are going to get a fight out of me you are mistaken," said Oscar.
Paddy, who was wide awake now, was profuse in his apologies.
"It's all right," said his employer; "but in future don't be quite so free with that stick of yours. Be sure you are striking at the right man."
Oscar slept soundly in his comfortable bed, and at daylight was awakened by his cook, who called him to breakfast. He ate alone, sitting in a camp-chair beside a cheerful fire which Paddy O'Brian had kindled for his especial benefit, and as he sipped his coffee and looked around at his possessions he felt like a young monarch.
This was his first taste of African life. In this way he was to live for long months to come.